The Curious Case of Draco Malfoy
by Toppysammy
Summary: Harry discovers that Draco has a heart under all that gorgeousness, although it would take a little digging to find it.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Alright, Listen up! This fic will contain mature sexual content eventually, so be warned. Oh, and the language content is rather bad as well. Also, in this story, Old Voldy's been killed for good, for there are no such things as horcruxes here. Harry is also slightly wimpy here, so I guess you could say this is slightly OOC for everyone involved. Hope you enjoy, and tell me what you think! Even flames are appreciated, so say whatever you think is appropriate!_

Harry was walking down the platform 9 ¾ when Ron appeared seemingly out of nowhere and clapped Harry smartly on the back. Harry winced imperceptibly; Dudley had beat Harry quite soundly right before he had left home for the school year, and the brunet still had several purple and yellow marks all over his body. For a Savior of the Wizarding World, he was treated most unkindly.

He _was_ a savior now, inadvertently saved by muggles, of all things. Voldemort was dead, but he was killed in a rather indirect manner. Harry had researched a poison that couldn't be detected by any wand, Elder Wand or not. Astonishingly, the poison was a common muggle household cleanser, and Snape, the double-agent that he was, slipped it into Voldemort's afternoon tea, therefore assassinating the Dark Lord rather unspectacularly.

The remaining Death Eaters had been rounded up and tried in the Wizengamot. Harry had spoken up for the under-age Death Eaters, and they were released almost immediately. Harry held his fame _responsible_ for their liberation, but he wasn't exactly ungrateful of it either. He was glad that he had freed his fellow classmates, even though they _were_ the cause of his suffering at school. He didn't accuse them of wrongdoing, however, for they were just trying to follow their fathers or save their own lives. Malfoy had actually thanked Harry for his release, a brief note having been sent to him a week after the trial. Harry had held onto the note and its current position was in the back pocket of his muggle jeans.

"Hey Ron," Harry said and beamed tiredly. Ron grinned back and turned at the call of his name, which had been shouted by Hermione, who came running towards them. She panted heavily as she tried to catch her breath.

"Harry, it's so good to see you." she gasped and flung her arms around him hastily, smothering him with her large breasts.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry said awkwardly into her chest. She finally let go of him and sheepishly turned to Ron and gave him a decidedly chaste hug as well. "I'm so sorry Harry, but I'm going to have to steal Ron. He needs to come with me and—" she cut herself off abruptly and turned to Ron expectantly, and he sighed.

"Alright, whatever. We probably won't be able to catch up with you on the train Harry, so we'll see you in the Great Hall, yeah?" Ron looked like he was about to explode with embarrassment, and Harry raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Alright," Harry said slowly, and Hermione enveloped him in another embrace.

"Thanks Harry. We'll see you soon!" she called back over her shoulder with Ron in tow, looking even redder in the face than usual. Harry just laughed and boarded the train.

He sought out an empty compartment and ventured in, heaving his luggage up into the top rack and sat down ungracefully, sighing. The train ride was going to be quite boring without Ron and Hermione to talk to, but he could deal with it. He cast several strong locking charms to keep out anyone who would want to fill his day with idle chatter, and stared quietly out the window until a loud rapping against the window drew his attention. Malfoy stood outside, tapping restlessly against the small screen, and Harry scowled. What did he want? He removed the spells with a wave of his wand and sat back, expecting a tongue lashing from his arch-nemesis. _What did I do to deserve the blond's wrath now?_ his mind asked dryly. Malfoy entered cautiously, as if Harry was going to hex him at any moment, and sat down. Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. Malfoy scowled.

"Everywhere else is full." he said and stuck out his chin defiantly, as if expecting Harry to expel him from the compartment without a word in edgewise. Harry nodded stiffly and went back to staring out the window.

Malfoy's minions hadn't been so fortunate in the downfall of the Dark Lord. All of them had perished in the aftermath of the rampage the Death Eaters had initiated only moments after the snake-man's death. Despite this fact, the blond looked as calm and as collected as ever. He just sighed and pulled out a small book from his pocket and opened it, settling himself against the opposite wall. As if by an afterthought, he pulled out his wand and cast a couple locking spells, one of which Harry didn't recognize, and a _muffliato_. Harry raised a brow at him, but he just made a face and kept reading. Harry sighed and rubbed his temples, already getting irritated by the git's presence.

"You know, Potter, it would be a lot easier to rid yourself of a headache by having someone else help you." Malfoy said teasingly. Harry looked over and saw Malfoy glancing up from his pocket-sized book with his eyebrow cocked, a smug expression etched into his features. Harry sighed again and turned towards the prat.

"Yes, well, I suppose you wouldn't help me with that, now would you, Malfoy? You wouldn't want to taint those feminine little hands of yours on my half-blood skin, right?"

It wasn't the best comeback ever, but it was the first one that came to mind. Malfoy bristled.

"You calling me a coward, Potter?" he growled challengingly.

"Maybe I am, _Malfoy._" Harry spat the last word at him, making the blond's lip curl. Harry smirked and quirked a brow at him. Malfoy scowled and stood fluidly. He stormed over to Harry, who quickly made room for him on the small bench. The Slytherin's hands delved into Harry's hair, tugging and scraping along his scalp as much as possible, causing Harry to bite his lip to keep from wincing.

"Turn around," Malfoy ordered murderously, and Harry complied quickly, not wanting his head to be removed from his torso. Harry twisted to face the window, the Slytherin sitting directly behind him, his legs dangling off the side of the small bench, causing him to look like he was riding a horse sidesaddle. Malfoy's fingers worked their way to Harry's temples, pulling out more than a couple locks of hair as they went. Harry stifled another wince but then the wanker's fingers were on his temples and he almost melted from the onslaught of sensation. The git certainly knew what he was doing, for Harry's headache disappeared and he almost fell asleep under Malfoy's proceedings. Malfoy's fingers went lower and slid in behind Harry's ears, causing him to involuntarily release an unintelligible noise. The Slytherin's fingers kept moving, finding and lingering on special places Harry didn't even know existed. But then he found a spot directly behind Harry's left ear that made his foot twitch. Malfoy saw it move and kept scratching at the exact same place, and Harry watched in horror as his foot kept twitching, as if he were a dog and Malfoy had found that specific spot on a dog's side that made its foot jolt up and down spastically.

"Getting a little excited, aren't we, Potter?" Malfoy whispered into his ear and Harry jumped. Damn it all, this was fucking _Draco Malfoy_, for Merlin's sake, and Harry didn't have to put up with his shit if he didn't want to. He pulled away from Malfoy forcibly and turned back towards him, not caring about how many strands of hair that still clung to the Slytherin's fingers in the process.

"You wish, Malfoy." Harry spat, trying to recover some semblance of control over himself. He was half-hard, and he hoped to hell that the git didn't notice. How the hell did _he_ _not notice_ that he was getting turned on? And by all people, _Malfoy_ was the one who was doing it? He was his rival, not someone who could just waltz into his compartment and give him a bloody head massage. _But you enjoyed it,_ his mind added traitorously. He forced the wayward thought to the back of his mind and turned his attention back to Malfoy, who was staring at him thoughtfully. Harry blushed, unable to stop himself. Malfoy smirked.

"My turn," he practically purred. He chuckled at Harry's astonished expression. "Come on Potter, did you really expect me to give you a massage without demanding reciprocation?" He chuckled again and snatched Harry's hands in his, causing Harry to jump once more. "Scared, Potter?" he questioned maliciously.

Harry put on a determined expression and reached out to put his hands into the slimy prat's hair. It was as soft as corn silk, much to his surprise. He had expected it to be as greasy as the owner, but surprisingly, it was very soft. Malfoy sighed and turned around, scooting backwards so that Harry didn't have to bend his back at an awkward angle to reach his temples. Harry started moving hesitantly at first, but became more and more confident as he pulled reluctant moans from the throat of his old enemy. Malfoy pulled out his wand to cast a charm that drew heavy green curtains over the window on the door. Harry nodded in silent agreement. No one should see the famous Harry Potter giving Draco bloody Malfoy a head massage. Malfoy leaned back suddenly, and Harry was decidedly grateful that he had brought both his legs up to sit cross-legged on the bench. Malfoy's arse was now pressed firmly against Harry's feet and his head was wedged under Harry's chin. His back was fitted tightly against Harry's chest, and Harry blushed at the close contact. However, he didn't stop his finger's movements. After awhile, Harry felt Malfoy's breath deepen, and he could only guess that the prat had fallen asleep. He sighed and pulled Malfoy closer so he could lean on the window facing the countryside without Malfoy's head sliding down into his lap. Harry soon fell asleep as well, feeling strangely content with his rival strung along the length of the small bench they were sharing.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco awoke to an arm wrapping almost protectively around his midsection, and he instinctively shifted closer to the warmth, feeling the body tighten slightly. Draco's legs were securely drawn up to his chest, and the legs of whoever he was lying on were spread around him, giving him even more room to snuggle against the obviously male chest. He had just about drifted off once again when a hesitant question came forth into his semi-consciousness, causing him to scowl.

"Malfoy?" the tentative inquiry sounded, at least to Draco, practically frightened. He murmured softly that the man needn't be afraid, for Draco was there to protect him. The body must not have heard him, for the voice sounded off again, this time with more authority. "Malfoy, get up." it ordered harshly, and a strong hand dug into his shoulder blade.

"Quiet down, I'm comfy." he mumbled and snuggled closer to the immense heat the man was radiating. Honestly, the person was a furnace. The man gasped and suddenly Draco was on the floor, having been pushed off the bloody tiny bench that he and the warm body were sharing. Draco's eyes shot up accusingly and he stared angrily at the bloody Boy Who Lived to Annoy the Hell out of Draco. All of the blond's memories of what had just occurred came slamming back in a rush, and Draco had to fight to keep the shock of it all from showing on his face. The Slytherin stood gracefully and glared down at the brunet, who had the audacity to look befuddled.

"What the hell?" Potter mumbled intelligently as he fixed his glasses and glanced out the window. He pulled an astonished face and looked guiltily back up to Draco, who hadn't said anything yet. "Malfoy, we're about to arrive. We have about ten minutes until we actually pull up to Hogwarts." He blushed and looked down, and oddly endearing expression. Draco shook his head to rid himself of that thought and took a minute to process Potter's words. When he finally understood Draco was practically seething with rage.

"_Why __the __hell __didn__'__t __you __wake __me __up __earlier?_" he stormed and flung himself to his trunk, pulling out random clothing and putting on his horrid Hogwarts robes. Honestly, couldn't they have made more of an effort towards their attire at school? They were terribly drab, and the material was forever chaffing Draco's beautifully smooth skin. He had to take too many bloody baths to retain his silky skin and hair. Frankly, it made Draco dreadfully angry. As he was ripping off his formal silk button-down shirt, he spared a glance at Potter, who was still sitting awkwardly on the bench Draco had just vacated. "Aren't you going to change?" Draco sneered. Potter was immensely thick sometimes. "Or are you going to sit there and stare at me with your jaw dangling precariously off your face?" He watched with satisfaction as Potter's mouth snapped shut with an audible click and stood defiantly, bringing down his own luggage and pulled off his horrendous muggle t-shirt that was at least 3 times too big for him. "And why is your wardrobe so dysfunctional, Potter? Those muggles you live with too afraid that the Savior of the Wizarding World will hex them senseless if they provided him with adequate apparel?" Draco smirked at his own joke; he was getting better at insulting Potter.

"It's none of your business, Malfoy," Potter countered and turned towards him, his entire chest exposed for Draco's perusal. The Slytherin almost gasped. There were several angry purple marks and lines that crossed Potter's surprisingly toned chest; the marks were grouped mostly along the Gryffindor's stomach, but several radiated up across his pectorals, some even ending on his neck. Potter looked down, seemingly confused at Draco's shocked expression, and blushed. "Dudley." was all he said before spinning around and quickly throwing a simple button-down collared shirt on, as if the word "Dudley" explained everything.

"What?" Draco asked stupidly before he could stop himself.

Potter sighed. "Dudley, my...cousin. He and his gang...well, as you saw, weren't very happy that I was leaving." the Gryffindor explained.

"Why, they wanted you to stay home so they could praise you?" Draco supplied haughtily.

"On the contrary, they've always hated me. My muggle relatives, that is. My uncle Vernon forced me to live under the stairs in a broom cupboard for the first thirteen years of my life." he smiled ruefully. "Unlike what everyone thinks about my life before Hogwarts, I was beaten within an inch of my life several times. One memorable day I was beaten four different times in one day, and _that_ was on my eighth birthday."

Potter turned back around and tied his tie quietly, leaving Draco to try and tame his now whirling thoughts. He had always thought that Potter was treated like bloody royalty throughout his entire childhood. To be this wrong was practically insulting.

"Harry?" he asked hesitantly, drawing his rival's attention immediately. "I—I'm sorry." Draco blurted. Potter just looked at him incredulously. Draco felt his cheeks redden unbecomingly, and he turned away, tightening his tie nervously. What had caused him to say _that_? Was he daft? And why did he actually utter the prat's _first __name?_ What the hell was wrong with him? He blushed again and finished dressing. He turned to the astonished brunet and nodded curtly before magically sealing his trunk shut and casting a spell that made it float behind him. "See you around, Potter," Draco mumbled and practically flung himself out the door, remembering to cancel the locking charms he had cast in the nick of time.

"'Bye, Malfoy." Potter said quietly as Draco fled, his cheeks reddening profusely.


	3. Chapter 3

Well, that was..._interesting,_ to say the least. Malfoy had actually apologized, and he wasn't being sarcastic. Harry frowned. Was the poor sod ill? Surely he must be for he wouldn't apologize...well, ever. The words that Malfoy had just uttered were ones that Harry didn't expect the prat to say even if he were being tortured to insanity.

Harry shook his head and finished dressing, feeling the Express coming to a screeching halt as he did so. He stayed back until he saw everyone pass by the window, some people actually pointing obscenely at him on their way by. He scowled and exited the train, hopping into a stray carriage just as it was departing. He glanced around but saw no one of significance, so he resigned himself to a silent ride and leaned back into the uncomfortable seat.

When they finally arrived at Hogwarts, Harry dropped his belongings off at the designated area and sat ungracefully down on the bench seat closest to the door. He hated having to sit next to anyone that he didn't want to talk to, and now everyone gave him his much needed space. He especially didn't like it when people tried to congratulate him on "a job well done." Frankly, he did not think that he deserved any kind of recognition, for he wasn't the one that ultimately pulled the plug on old snake-face.

"Harry!" a voice called and he instinctively turned towards it. Ginny came skipping up to him, a broad smile on her face. Harry returned it warmly.

The year before, Ginny had confessed to everyone that she wasn't straight, much to the dismay of her mother. She was heart-broken that her only daughter wasn't going to supply her with copious amounts of grandchildren. Arthur and the twins had taken it much easier, happy as long as _she_ was happy. Ron was coping, although he still acted like the protective older brother and warned her that he would shave her head if she even thought about dating a Slytherin girl. Ginny conceded and was now dating a nice Ravenclaw girl, who seemed to be Ginny's perfect opposite in every way.

"Hi'ya Ginny," Harry said and grinned. He had taken Ginny's revelation much easier than he thought he would have, and now he was completely over her. Sure, they had their fumbled kisses in the past, but nothing that made Harry dwell on her for more than a week or two. Besides, he couldn't change who she was, after all.

"Harry, could I borrow your map tonight?" she asked innocently, her eyes widening slightly. Harry smirked. She only did that when she was up to something particularly devious.

"Sure, Ginny." he said easily, and she hugged him.

"Thanks, Harry! I owe ya one." She smiled one last time and pranced back over to her dark-haired girlfriend. Harry shook his head indulgently and turned to Headmaster Dumbledore, who had just risen to address the student body. He said his usual piece and welcomed the first years, and then the meal began. Harry was slightly disconcerted that Ron and Hermione weren't there, but he decided that they had snuck off to a more private venue. He smirked ruefully and ate in silence.

He had glanced up once during dinner and spotted Malfoy observing him thoughtfully from the Slytherin table. Harry just waggled his eyebrows at him and watched in satisfaction as the blond blushed and looked back down guiltily. The brunet just smirked and continued his meal unperturbed. After the meal, Harry stumbled up to the Gryffindor Tower and entered his dormitory. He greeted Seamus, Dean and Neville with indifference and automatically dressed in his pajamas. Ron finally appeared some time later, looking flushed. Harry just nodded once in acknowledgement and Ron's ears darkened. Harry chuckled and crawled under his covers, feeling as though he had come home at last.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, McGonagall stood that morning before breakfast ended and quieted down the happily munching students, stating that she had an announcement.

"Seventh-year students," she called out, and the entire room silenced, curious stares all fixated on the head of Gryffindor house. "The other professors and I have agreed to change the line-up of the seventh year student body. We believe that the rivalry between houses has become too unscrupulous, and we have come to the decision to group all the seventh year students into one house." she said, and a large uproar immediately met the suggestion. Harry watched in horror as his fellow seventh years drew their wands, glaring at their rival table in malice. "The Hufflepuff house shall be divided into the other houses, and the Seventh years shall stay in their common room for the rest of the year."

The Hufflepuff table looked stricken. Harry's eyes immediately sought out Malfoy, who was starting to turn an upsetting shade of green. "We do not know if this new advancement in student placement will stay permanent. However, it shall be in place for at least three years." She held up a hand to silence the defiant shouts of anger. "It has already been decided. Hufflepuff students, if you would please step forward so that we may sort you into a new house." she stated and held up the Sorting Hat. Several of the younger Hufflepuff members were in tears, and many of the older students looked like they were about to vomit. Ron was practically screaming at the top of his lungs about the injustice, and Hermione was trying to calm him down without much success. Harry put a firm hand on the irritated ginger's shoulder, murmuring reassuring statements in his ear in an attempt to soothe the poor sod. He finally settled back down into his seat, seething at McGonagall. Hermione shot Harry a grateful glance and whispered something in her boyfriend's ear. Ron's eyes widened at whatever she had just said, and Harry didn't exactly _want_ to know what they were now discussing hurriedly.

Soon enough the Hufflepuff students had been re-sorted, and the reluctant seventh years went to sit at their new table. Seamus furiously tried to wrestle his way from the room, but finally Dean had to subdue the angry Scotsman with a mumbled hex that caused him to walk to the table against his will. Harry grinned at Dean, and he answered with a strained smile of his own. Harry sat down next to his two closest friends, and realized with great displeasure that Malfoy sat directly across from him. His grey eyes were hooked on the teachers' table, as if glaring at it hard enough would make it spontaneously combust. Harry chuckled, drawing the angry blond's attention.

"Looks like we'll have even _more_ time to give each other a massage, eh Malfoy?" Harry whispered so that only the ex-Slytherin could hear him. The blond scowled at him.

"You wish, Potter." was all he said. Harry chuckled again.

"Your schedules have been sent to your new rooms along with your possessions. Because of this minor setback, classes shall not commence until tomorrow. You may now leave." McGonagall finished and left the podium. Dumbledore sat in his usual high-backed chair, his eyes sparkling brightly. Harry scowled at him.

Half the room began to move, and most of the seventh years had left to seek out their new accommodations. Harry followed solemnly; he was still in shock over his predicament. When everyone had arrived at the Hufflepuff common room, there was a collective gasp from the other houses. It was huge, even larger than the Gryffindor common room, and even Malfoy looked suitably impressed. Heading up the stairs to the dormitories, Harry was even more shocked to discover that he now shared a room with Draco Malfoy, Zacharias Smith, Dean Thomas, and Theodore Nott. _At __least _someone _in __here __won__'__t __kill __me __in __my __sleep,_ Harry thought dolefully.

Theodore's father had been a Death Eater, and now he resided in Azkaban along with the Elder Malfoy. Zacharias has had a tremendous crush on Harry for the past several years now, and had once tried to pursue the now ex-Gryffindor. Harry vehemently evaded the ex-Hufflepuff's advances, but finally Smith had had enough of beating about the bush and cornered the Savior in a small courtyard, intent upon getting the brunet to become his. Harry finally had to outright refuse Smith's request, only fueling the fire of Zacharias' desire. He had attempted to grope the Boy Who Lived, and ended up with many broken ribs and a badly beaten ego. He still carried the torch for the ex-Gryffindor, but usually kept his longing to himself. However, that didn't mean that the tricky young man wouldn't start his chase once again. Harry sighed. He wasn't going to get _any_peace this year, _that_ was for sure.

_A/N:__I __don't __know __if __I __want __to __finish __this __story __or __not. __If __you __want __me __to, __tell __me, __and __depending __on __how __many __messages __I __get __I'll __either __forget __this __story __or __finish __it. __Review, __review, __review!_


End file.
